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After a longish period, with not much happening at all, the last week has been a particularly good time for reviews of my 'nostalgedy...

Saturday, 26 January 2013

The Mark of Cane

You may recall that, before we
were rudely interrupted by the festive season, I was recounting the everyday
corporal punishment that was meted out for even the most minor transgression, and my trials and tribulations with (amongst
other things) woodworking at my school, Anglesey Secondary Modern in Burton (see Hitting the Woodwork)?

As the months passed, and my
woodworking ability failed to improve, the collection of mangled pieces of wood
continued to build in my workbench, as Mr. W. told me to "put that in your
cupboard to finish later" whenever he wanted to move the class on to the
next project. Finally, we reached what
was intended to be the piece de
resistance of the course; a small mahogany bookcase. Before we embarked upon this grand project we
were warned, in no uncertain terms, that this was a very expensive piece of
wood and we were to take the greatest possible care of it.

I can't remember much about this
project, thankfully, but I know that we were required to plane the wood to
ensure a nice, smooth, and above all, straight series of edges. So I planed away with gusto, checking the
edges every now and then with a spirit level (which I didn't really understand,
but it looked good anyway).

My problem was that I'm a bit of
a perfectionist. This is something of a
handicap in someone with no discernible practical ability. As time went by, it became clear to me that,
instead of the edges becoming ever more level and smooth, they were beginning
to take on the appearance of the Bay of Biscay in a storm. They say that the definition of madness is to
continue with an action in the expectation of a different outcome. I can only say that I was gripped with a form
of madness as the plane slid over the wood again and again, and the appearance
of the edges got steadily worse.

Eventually, Mr. W. came over to
see how I was progressing, and the conversation went something like this:

Mr. W. "What do you think
you're doing?"

Me: "I'm planning the edges
straight"

Mr. W. (turning red with anger) "But…look
at them! They're like a dog's hind leg!
You've ruined this wood. Take it
to Mr. R. (our Headmaster) and tell him to give you the cane."

The class fell absolutely silent
as I removed my mutilated mahogany from the vice and headed miserably for the
door. The idea of 'goody, goody'
Whiteland being sent for the cane, was a shock to most and a cause of some
hilarity in others. I can only assume
that Mr. W. thought that I had committed this desecration deliberately, although
a quick glance in my workbench would have told a different story.

Shaking with fear and deep in
misery, I marched down to the Headmaster's office and knocked, timidly, on the
door. There was no reply. In an agony of indecision, I hung about in
the vestibule that separated the various offices from the entrance to the
school hall. Eventually, the Deputy
Headmistress came out and saw me forlornly clutching my piece of mahogany.

"What are you standing there
for, Philip?" Miss A. asked

"Mr. W. sent me to see the
Headmaster with this." I indicated the tortured timber, but diplomatically
failed to indicate exactly why he had
sent me on this errand.

"You'd better go back and
tell Mr. W. that the Headmaster is out at the moment"

Grateful for this reprieve, I scuttled
back to my class, although I was rather worried about how Mr. W. might take
this news. As luck would have it, he had
calmed down in the interim and probably thought better of his actions. I blubbered to him that Mr. R. was out at the
moment and he sent me back to my bench and said he would see if he could help
me to repair the damage. Thankfully, the
idea of the cane seemed to have taken a back seat (as opposed to my back seat).

I never did complete the mahogany
bookcase. It joined the rest of the
prospective firewood in my workbench and the matter was never discussed again.

This story, and many others, will be part of the new compilation, A Kick at the Pantry Door, scheduled for publication March/April 2013. You can find the existing compilations by following these links: Steady Past Your Granny's and Crutches for Ducks

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About Me

Philip is a retired university lecturer in Human Resource Management. He has just turned 60, which is marginally better than not turning 60 in his opinion, but not much. If you can forgive him both of those facts, then you might just enjoy his writing.

He lives on the edge of the Derbyshire Peak District, because that is as far as they will let him in. He was born and brought up, in Burton upon Trent, the home of the UK brewing industry, and spent much of his early years attempting to support that industry single-handedly. Much of his writing over the past few years, for the Derby Telegraph, Burton Mail's "times gone by" magazine and Mature Times has featured his recollections of growing up (allegedly) in the 1950s and 1960s. He's christened his combination of nostalgia and comedy 'nostalgedy', he did consider 'comalgia' but he thought it sounded too much like an unfortunate medical condition.

"Steady Past Your Granny's" was Philip's first, self-published, collection of stories, available in Kindle and Paperback formats. The bumper sequel, "Crutches for Ducks" was published on Kindle on 1st November, 2011. Philip's first foray into full-length humorous fiction, "Jambalaya", followed on 30th August, 2012 and the third collection of 'nostalgedy' stories, "A Kick at the Pantry Door" burst onto the scene on 1st July, 2013 and has been collecting 5 star reviews ever since.